


stay with me

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, F/M, Flowers, Friends to Lovers, Love, Male-Female Friendship, Soulmates, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 07:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14587677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Ficlet set in post S5. Daisy is recovering after the almost end of the world and Coulson brings her flowers.





	stay with me

She manages to open her eyes just a little, even if the light still feels disorienting.

Then she blinks, and looks at him standing in the doorway. And blinks again, making sure it's not the medication.

"Can I come in?"

She groans as she tries to raise herself into siting up higher in the hospital bed, and suddenly feels him there at her side, adjusting the controls on the bed to raise it for her.

"Thanks," she says, laying back, and closing her eyes for a moment, listening to him find a place for himself in the room.

Her eye cracks open again, sideways to look at him, and he has a serious expression, maybe even a little anxious.

"What are those?" she asks, tipping her head at the bunch of flowers laid on the bed near the end of her feet.

"Those are for you," he nods.

"Can I see them?" she asks him, and he sits up out of the chair he's sat in to reach for them, bringing them closer to her.

"They're peonies," he tells her, as she looks at the deep russet blossoms, and leans in to smell them. She can see him looking at her arms, wrapped in layers of bandages.

"You didn't go for the most obvious choice," she mentions.

"Daisies?" he asks, as he pushes up the sleeves of the blue sweater he's wearing.

"I'm supposed to be taking it easy, but-" she tells him, wiggling her nose at the itch forming there. "Hey, my nose is itching, and-" She raises her mummy-wrapped fingers in front of her.

"Okay," he tells her earnestly. "Just tell me where to scratch?"

She can't help but chuckle to herself, then winces as little at the sensation intensifying. "It's like, right at the tip, but, no, to the right. Down. _Yeah_."

He's being very gentle of course, and standing there quietly not saying anything at all, like it's the most important mission he's had all day.

"Thanks," she breathes out, and leans back into the bed. "I'll let you know if I get any other itches."

He gives her a startled smile in return and manages to stare down at his hands in his lap.

"Flowers don't really seem like your thing," she says, studying him.

"I didn't expect to be here," he replies easily, like this is a much safer topic. "I am. Thanks to you."

That makes her glance away for a moment, suddenly self conscious about how terrible she must look, how it must seem like she made a choice, again, without involving everyone else.

She doesn't care. She would do it again. Hell, since they were in a time loop, she might actually have.

It would always be the same choice.

"And, I thought they smelled nice," he adds, leaning forward into the bouquet to take in the scent, his eyes lifting over the blooms to look at her.

"Are you sure they're for me?" she teases him, as he sets the flowers down in the empty chair beside him.

"I thought I was living before I almost died. Again."

Thoughts start to race through her mind. The flowers, so unlike him. Maybe he is finally walking away. It's not like he hasn't earned it.

"When you left, and you were gone for six months," he goes on. "It was all I could think about."

"I thought about you, too," she admits. "I tried not to. Sorry. I did. Because, the idea of losing you obviously makes me take drastic measures."

"Obviously," he tells her quietly, a smile starting to stretch across his mouth as he scratches the palm of his hand with his prosthetic.

"Look, Coulson, I know you can't always be here for me," she tells him. turning towards him, leaning her shoulder into the bed. "It just felt unfair for it to end like _that_."

"You asked me to stay with you," he says seriously, brushing off her attempt to make it seem like something less.

"And here you are," she says with a grin. "Bringing me flowers and making me wonder just how strong my meds are."

He sighs, presses his lips together, then gets up to go to the foot of the bed and looks over her medical chart.

"You're fine."

She can see the line of his jaw tense, and he sets the chart down, but stays at the end of the bed, looking at her like he wants to say more, but coming up short.

"I'm-" she starts, and sees the bandages on her healing arms. "Having another itch," she says, glancing up to meet his eyes.

"What kind of itch?" he asks curiously.

"Still trying to figure it out," she tells him, pressing her lips together. "I've been wondering, exactly, uh, when it started? We were caught in an actual time loop, and you'd think I could just-"

"Make sense of it?" he finishes. "Do we have to? I tried to do that. And I think I almost missed it."

He shakes his head, like he thinks he's a fool, and she wants to warn him, because she is a fool too. She is dangerous and in-

"And there will probably be all kinds of itching, in places you never even thought of," she blurts out. "There might even be a rash in there somewhere."

"I'm not a scratch-and-run kind of guy," he answers, seeming slightly offended, but he sits back down in the chair beside her, placing his hand carefully over her bandaged arm.

His thumb runs along the bandages as if he's imagining touching her bruised skin, and she's never wanted to heal more quickly.

He should ask her the same question, about running. But she knows that he won't. She remembers him telling her she wore her heart on her sleeve and her face, once. It seems like a lifetime ago, but looking at him now, it makes perfect sense.

She takes a deep breath, but before she can get the words out, he does.

"Stay with me, Daisy."


End file.
